


The Golden Boy

by kingkoblih



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Olympics AU, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 05:09:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkoblih/pseuds/kingkoblih
Summary: The winter Olympics are here! Our favourite boy has had some rough times this season, but he's determined to have fun at the Olympics. Things, however, take a very different turn and the Olympics turn into an experience full of crying, sobbing and hugging everyone  in the 2km radius as he can't contain himself anymore. Emil never expected to win. How does he deal with the pressure and the overwhelming feelings? This is a sweet little piece for all the Emil lovers who want to see their son finally be the best.





	The Golden Boy

The last step-sequence. The last spin. The end-pose.

Emil finished his routine and his heart was about to jump out of his chest. Did he really do it? Did he really make it? He was looking around, his head pounding. The applause around him was enormous, he saw people standing up, but the weight of the situation still hasn’t fallen on him. Did he _really_ make it? He spun around to bow to the audience and the second flowers started falling on the ice, he finally realized what was going on.

His hands, waving to everyone up until that moment, fell down to his face, covering it. He started crying. The applause was giant, he’d never had so many people clapping to him. To _him_! He quickly waved to everyone and made his way to the boarder of the ice rink. His knees were giving up, not only from the extremely difficult routine he gave his hundred percent into that evening, but also from the realization as of what might happen next.

His coach welcomed him back on land with a tight hug. Emil had just enough willpower to put his guards on, but then he collapsed into a big sobbing puddle in his coach’s arms. He felt the pats on his back and the hand ruffling his already messy hair. He cried, he was sweaty, he didn’t know what was going on around him when his coach, the good old man, dragged him to the kiss and cry. Only there he finally had a second to catch a breath. He put on his jacket, blew his nose, he heard his coach talking to him the whole time enthusiastically, but he didn’t really listen. His brain was absolutely scrambled.

“The scores for Emil Nekola,” the voice announced. The whole stadium was suddenly quiet, as if everyone was holding their breath, just like Emil did. His fingernails dug into the bench he was sitting on, his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him.

A deafening applause. Emil felt his coach shaking him, laughing right next to him, repeating that Emil did it, but Emil himself still couldn’t believe it. He stared at the screen, baffled.

“I… win?” he finally turned to his coach, still not believing his eyes. The answer he got was another tight hug. Oh wow. Oh boy. Oh my.

When he finally stumbled to the winner area and pretty much fell onto one of the couches there, he was cry-laughing as if he was high. His hands were shaking and he wasn’t able to do much more than to hug his fellow skaters.

“You’ve done it, Emil!”

“Where did that come from, man?!”

“That last jump was a  b o m b!”

Emil listened to their words in disbelief. He still half expected to be asked to leave any second, he was sure the last competitor would take him down, even though that was impossible by numbers. He sat there, sobbing, repeating to his friends that he had no idea what was going on in between little laughs and accidental jokes that slipped out. They both were older than him, two people he was looking up to, two people that were already used to this spot from almost every competition, but for Emil, it was something brand new. And it had to come right here, at the Olympics. He still couldn’t believe it.

He finally managed to calm down when the last commentator announced the name of the last competitor of the night. Viktor Nikiforov himself was closing the event, but, considering his short program score, even if he broke the world record, he wouldn’t beat Emil. The young Czech watched his performance in silence, holding on to one of the pillows that were laying on the couch, excited about every jump Viktor made and every beautiful landing he managed to pull off. It was such a beautiful routine, he knew there was no better way to finish this nerve-wrecking event off. And when it was official that Viktor managed to jump from 6th to 3rd place and joined the rest at the winner area, it was the last straw for Emil – he felt like fainting. If winning the Olympics felt surreal, winning at the Olympics AND beating Viktor Nikiforov, that was the real deal. And when the Russian himself came to congratulate him, Emil was speechless. Without even thinking, he hugged Viktor, forgetting everything about personal boundaries as always when he got too excited.

Viktor, though visibly surprised at first, hugged him back, adding a few encouraging pats on his back.

“Well done, Emil, you really did amazing, it is a well-deserved win.”

“No one’s gonna believe me about this!” Emil sobbed out with a little laugh. “How do I say someone that I won a gold at the Olympics with a straight face? They’ll all laugh at me,” he shook his head and finally loosened Viktor from the tight embrace. To his surprise, Viktor took him by the shoulders and leaned to his ear with a mischievous smile.

“That’s exactly why you bring the medals with you everywhere. To shoo away the haters with the bling,” he whispered and pat Emil’s shoulder. “See you at the podium,” he added quickly and made his way to his coach. They had only a few moments to get ready for the ceremony and Emil was already hopelessly lost.

He didn’t remember much from the ceremony. All he knew was that he was standing in the winner area and then suddenly he was marching on the red carpet to the podium, then he was suddenly standing up there, holding the little white tiger plushie to his chest and feeling as if his knees were going to give up while listening to the Czech anthem, thinking that he had no idea how he’d survive it for the second time on the actual medal ceremony. Then suddenly he was sitting at a press conference where he was more confused than ever before.

“How do you feel after such a surprising result, Mr Nekola?”

“Honestly, I could really use the toilet right now…”

He ended up face palming to himself under the salve of laughter from all the journalists and his fellows at the table.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I am like this…” he muttered as an apology, hiding his face in his hands with an embarrassed laugh. “I feel great,” he quickly added. “I honestly still can’t believe it… I think the whole country is going to think the news are some kind of a prank…”

“Why is that?”

“I literally came here to meet my friends,” Emil laughed. “And gain experience. That’s what I told everyone. Just gaining experience, not expecting much, just, you know, having fun in Korea and making Instagram videos doing backflips in front of funny signs all around the Olympic village, that’s literally it.”

“You didn’t have the best season either, right?”

“That’s right,” Emil nodded, wiping his eyes off. Goddamn it he was about to tear up again. “It was nothing major, I had a slight problem with my thigh and I basically didn’t land anything over the season. I was really stressed out.”

“So, what changed?”

“I… I don’t know really…” Emil thought, running his fingers through the beard. “I did what I came for, met my friends. You know, Mickey, JJ, Chris. They all were so determined and happy to be here. They all were ready to do their best and to make their dreams come true. And I told myself ‘man, you’re at the Olympics, this _is_ your dream come true and you should enjoy it!’ and I went to the nearest fast food and stuffed my face because what’s better than overeating the night before your short programme?” he laughed. “I stopped worrying about falling on my butt, I stopped worrying about everything. I just wanted to have fun and watch my friends have fun.”

“And it ended up with them watching you.”

“Haha, yeah. I guess this year is really the year of miracles for us Czechs…”

The warm welcome at the Czech House took his breath away. All the people he’d been looking up to were shaking his hand, everyone was so happy for him, it was so unbelievable he had to get lost in a few moments not to get overwhelmed. He had to shut himself off in his room for at least a few hours, this was… It was too much. Way too much. He wasn’t ready for this. He needed a few moments for himself…

When he took a long cold shower and was finally ready to hop in the bed, there was a knock on the door. He sighed. It was probably his coach with some paperwork and info about the medal ceremony. Well, he could spend a few minutes on that.

“Yeah?!”

“It’s me, Michele.”

Emil’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly put on the t-shirt of his pyjamas and went to open the door. He totally forgot about Mickey!

“God, I’m sorry!” he blurted out upon opening the door. They had planned to go for a dinner after the free skate and Emil, overwhelmed with duties and all the unplanned chaos, forgot.

“Don’t “God” me, Nekola, and get out of the way,” Michele smirked and made his way into the hotel room. Only after that Emil noticed the bag Michele was carrying with him.

“Are you kidding me,” he laughed and closed the door behind his visitor. Michele had already hang his coat and sat on Emil’s bed, opening the paper bag. “You brought McDonald’s?”

“Not only that,” Michele reached inside the paper back, taking out the smaller paper box. “Got you a Happy Meal, I know you love Snoopy,” he handed the box to Emil. “Also, two Big Macs, some fries aaaaaand,” he took out a can of Pepsi. Emil theatrically wiped a fake tear from his cheek.

“You went all the way to bring me a Pepsi instead of a Coke? I don’t deserve you!”

“You bet you don’t,” Michele said teasingly. “So shut up and start eating, you look terrible!”

Emil was so glad to have Mickey by his side. It’d been so long since they had time to really talk. So long since they could spend some time together alone. Their relationship was great, but definitely not idyllical. After such nerve-wrecking three days, Emil couldn’t be happier when he finally curled up on the bed with his head on Michele’s lap, with a full stomach and way clearer head.

“Still, sorry I forgot about the dinner…” he muttered.

“Sheesh, Emil, you just won a gold, I don’t expect you to remember your old friends,” Michele joked as he played with Emil’s hair. Emil laughed with him, but still, he felt visibly distressed about it.

“Mili,” Michele said quietly. “I’m not mad. I know you had lots of work.”

“I could’ve called…”

“Mili,” Michele said more firmly this time. “I am not mad,” he said as his hand ran down to Emil’s beard and tugged at it gently. “You silly kid. I knew you’d be busy, that’s why I came to you, right?”

“Right,” Emil nodded and closed his eyes.

He missed these moments. He missed the silence between them. For the past three months, whenever they met, they were with a bunch of other people. And they talked. About practise, about their future plans, about new jumps, about everything. But what Emil loved the most was moments like this, when they just cuddled and enjoyed the silence and the peace. Moments when they didn’t have to move, they didn’t have to do anything.

“You did so well,” Michele suddenly said. “I never believed you’d make it,” he admitted, smiling softly as he continued brushing through Emil’s hair.

In all honesty, Emil never believed it either. His routines were, as Mickey always said, made for a superhuman. Wickedly intricate step sequences, the hardest jump combinations, jumps with arms up, if skated well, Emil’s routines were the ones to get off the tables. But he’d never skated them well. Emil wasn’t gifted with as much talent as the others, he had to work hard, he wasn’t a graceful dancer on the ice, but when he got into it, he became a machine. His muscle memory was breathtaking and once he managed to master a skill, the skill just stayed with him forever. And still, he’d never managed to skate his routines well. He always messed up last-minute. He always missed that one combination. He always slipped in that one step sequence. In the past months, he even managed to mess up the spins to the point he fell. Before the Olympics, everything was indicating Emil would make it among the first 15 if he skated his seasonal best. And yet he managed to beat everyone in his way, finishing second in the short programme and then skating for a total gold in his free. Michele himself wasn’t exactly attack the medals, but with his worst seasonal placement being the 5th place, he knew that with a little bit of luck he might be able to reach the bronze.

“I know,” Emil yawned. “It’s all about focusing, you know,” he mimicked Michele’s voice to mock him. “If you stopped being a dork on ice and did what you’re supposed to do, you would stand on the podium all the time, too,” he mimicked one of Mickey’s speeches he was given back when he was about sixteen. They both looked each other for a second before breaking into a laughte.

“I hate you,” Michele shook his head. “That’s not fair!”

“Oh heck it is! Listen to your gold-medallist boyfriend!” Emil reached up and poked Michele’s cheek.

“Are you going to rub this victory in my face for the rest of times?”

“That’s right, boy, this is my revenge for all the “lacklustre” comments!” Emil grinned.

There was another moment of silence. They were looking each other in the eyes, enjoying the happiness of one another. Michele finally leaned down to kiss Emil. It was a touch they hadn’t shared for almost six months. There was no time for it. There was so much nerves, so much trouble, so much focus on other things that they simply didn’t find time for each other. Yet, when they finally met, it was as if none of the time passed. As if it was just yesterday that they cuddled on Michele’s couch in Italy when Emil came for a quick vacation, watching RuPaul’s Drag Race and eating way too much popcorn.

“I’m so proud of you, Mili…” Michele finally whispered.

“I’m proud of you too. That Axel was so beautiful,” Emil pointed out. He didn’t want the night to be only about himself.

“What are you going to do now?” Michele asked, pecking Emil’s forehead.

“I don’t know, really…”

“May I offer-“

“I can’t, Mickey…” Emil sighed and sat up. They’ve been through that conversation so many times… “I can’t. I have to stay with my coach. Especially now when we know it works, when we finally know the hard work paid off. I can’t move to Italy… Sorry…” he gave Michele an apologetic smile. Michele didn’t seem one bit disappointed, though. He reached up to Emil’s cheek and brushed over it with his thumb.

“I know. But I can move to you, right?” he asked.

“What?”

“I can move to you,” Michele repeated. “Your coach doesn’t have anyone else. I’ve talked about it with him a few times already. I can move to the same rink as you and we can move in together.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, Nekola, I’m just joking because I’m jealous over that plushie you just got,” Mickey rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m serious,” he sighed and gave Emil an assuring smile. “Just… tell me you want to do this and we’ll do this. I think it’s about time, don’t you think?”

That night Emil cried once more, curled up in his boyfriend’s embrace under a warm blanket. He couldn’t believe so much good can happen in one single day. He couldn’t believe it could happen to him. He couldn’t believe all the hard work and years invested into his two loves could pay off in such a beautiful way. That night Emil didn’t let his boyfriend sleep for a minute. He cried, he sobbed, he laughed and he smiled. He was the happiest man alive.

 


End file.
